Two Nice Angels And A Girl Standing In The Rain Trying Not to Die

Click Pic For Whole Show... © akka b

 

Even Thunder can't budge her. 

How is that possible? Thunder always budges her. 

No, she's unbudgeable. 

What about the Lightning she asked for and was so generously bequeathed? 

She liked it. 

You mean to say it didn't change her life like she expected it to? 

Well, she expected it to, but she didn't really want it to. 

Her reasoning please? 

She wasn't ready. 

And why, pray tell, wasn't she ready?

She said she lost something and wasn't willing to die before she found it. 

Does Thunder & Lightning make her die? 

Usually. 

And that's why she loves it so much? 

Agreed.

Except in this one instance when she wouldn't let it...?

Exactly. 

Because she lost something?

She called it "Purpose" but refused to offer a description. 

So, she didn't reeaally want to find it again. 

Well, she didn't want help finding it again. 

Maybe her "Purpose" got struck by lightning while she was standing in the rain trying not to die?

That seems sensible. Should we tell her?

nah. 

A Pomme for Steve Jobs...

The APPLE of the World's Eye ~ Good JOBS!! 

Thank you STEVE!!

You get the whole apple now. xo

River Runs Through Me

 Thank you Tom for sharing this video!

RIVER RUNS THROUGH ME 

Inevitable it is, that the creek will reach the sea

The creek knows this, and so does the sea

So the trickling waters; sometimes an exuberant melody

Sometimes a violent thunder of pressing

Wraps her curiosity around roots of shore plants 

To see how long they will hold

And softens sharp stones with her willingness 

And wills the rain to fall more down

And surrenders to the sun, that might will her into rain 

And release her to the sea, 

Before she can soften all the sharp stones, 

Uproot all the mountain shrubs 

And feed small purple dragonflies - samples 

Of her industrious continuity... 

Death From Itself

Who am I to keep death from itself? 

Would I push a birthing infant back inside my womb? 

Stick a cork in it? 

Who am I to keep death from itself? 

A child, born of seed, seeks its own light

Knowing as a tree how to siphon water into its capsule

And break through the very soil, which held it to its growth

Who am I to keep death from itself? 

Where does the soil for birth begin?

If not from the ashes of what has come to an end?

Who am I to keep death from myself? 

Denying it, its simple goal, of life

Re: turn ing

Leap of sQuirrel

There was a THUMP! 

A sQuirrel landed on the eve of the house near where I was working in the grass. (Yes, sometimes I work in the grass). He was a big fatty of a bloke determined to reach the tree branch above my head. I didn't measure, but the limb must have been a good 10 feet or more from the eve. He knew it too. As I watched him assess the distance - perched on the very edge - he prepared to jump - then backed away. He did this a couple times; pacing across the small stretch of roof, considering all his options. By the way - he totally looked down; eying the distant ground where I was sitting. Hmn... ground squirrel or tree squirrel? Either choice was life or death, make it or break it kind of crazy. But this beast was not the type to bother with the long route. What he really wanted was the branch, because the branch was the gateway to a posh arboreal highway fit only for the ballsiest of the squirrel kingdom. 

Salivating for a glimpse of the impossible... I egged him on.

"JUMP - JUST DO IT!!" 

I've been wanting to JUST DO IT for a VERY long time. And I've been "egged on" by many to take certain (creative) plunges over the past months and even years. Sure, I've bounced from eve to eve navigating possibilities, but every time I get to that edge - I manage to inch myself backwards. So you may understand why I felt personally invested in the 'Leap of Faith' of this fat bushy tailed rodent. I had no fear for him - and as it turned out - he had no fear for himself either. 

HE DID IT!!! 

But it was a dang close call. If he had been off by an inch it would have been sQuirrel soup in my lap. It was a thrust-of-life-belly-flop-into-dangling-leaves-and-twigs-but-land-climbing-moment-of-brilliance! Leaves fell on my head from this raucous display of enormity and that big fat little sQuirrel even paused to watch me laugh my head off at his efforts. Biggest laugh all week!

Respect dude.

To My Destiny I Bow

© akka b.

REPETITION. I remember the days when it was comfortable to repeat old patterns; those days are close still, so it's easy - easy to remember, but impossible to go back. Trying - yes. But all attempts are futile - in other words the cause for horrendous pain. Internal. But also, sometimes it comes out in a skin rash or a hurt ankle or a lost anklet or a broken shoe. Big fat sigh goes here.

The other amusing aspect of the attempt to repeat negative patterns; indulge old anger, feelings of threat, neglect, abuse, betrayal, fear and on and on... is that we usually want to blame someone or something. Well I do. And when I do, I receive the greatest therapy on earth, it's called, "RETURN TO SENDER." It pierces; like a fire-arrow straight into the solar plexus. What I attempt to resolve through an 'outside me' blame place, only ricochets back making me feel like I am dying a slow and painful death. Which in a way, I am.

There is something safe about living the way we always have. Crying the same tears, punching the same wall, blaming the same archetype. REPETITION. It's a trap and it no longer works in the context of what we have already done - (that doesn't work). It will only keep biting - and biting deeper each time - until surrender settles in.

SURRENDER always wins. Because everything we fight outside our Self is only a hologram of a pattern that exists because we have asked it to and we are accustomed to it. Therefore, the only real conquest is to dissolve the source of the hologram - the place where we project from; to bow down to the pain place within, and say, I give you up, I forgive you, I release you, I love you. 

I give you up, I forgive you, I release you, I love you. 

REPEATEDLY.

Clearing room for who we really are - sans smoke screens.

eye see

*

 beyond

what you said. and didn't say

why you loved. but couldn't lay

 eye see

 the dragon. you fight. over there

and the dragon. i fight. over here

eye see

why swords. might seem. useful

and shields. might seem. necessary

eye see

why you might like 

and i might like

hiding

in caves. with swords. and shields. and dragons

i see.

*

*

*

i wonder what the dragon sees?

Spirits ARE Talkin'

Click on pic to GROW

The quietness of sunlight pressing me down 

into the driveway where I lay,

Under the driveway tree

Hungry hawk sends echo across skyline 

A kind of wind comes... 

Like smoke signals 

Listening

Every piece of Earth is talking now

Retelling about The Way

There is no considerable danger in ending

And no considerable ending, and no considerable beginning 

As we've been told so many times before

There is also no hawk, and yet there is hawk

No skyline, yet there is skyline

No sunlight, but sunlight yes

No wind

Yes wind

Listening and no listening

There is also no driveway, and yet there is driveway

Where I am laying, but not laying

Pressed by sun

Wind

Turned into smoke

And driveway tree 

A storm coming

But no storm

No coming

No going

and also, and therefore

Quiet. 

Spirits are talkin'

Chunks are Falling

Click to see full pic

Chunks are falling off again

 And it doesn't feel sublime

Artistic maybe?

ok

Chunks are falling artfully again

WOW - amazing patterns!

 Kaleidoscope of patterns

Chunky

 Artful

 Patterns

  

Falling

  

I wonder who I AM under all of this?

and

How much longer please?

DEAD/ALIVE

 Honoring all things dead, but not dead

I shared this poem a couple days ago, 

(the same day I wrote the poem) 

at a Psychic Faire on HALLOWEEN. 

The photos are from the reading, 

the sound clip was recorded last night 

(All SOUL'S DAY) 

and I present it today on...

THE DAY OF THE DEAD - El Dia de los Muertos

Click HERE.  
(Headphones recommended)

Photos by: Raksha Boiteau

yes and no

tactile exhilaration. 

it might be more fun to say yes 

if i didn't mind being smashed between tires and concrete

tired of doing the right thing

also getting off on it

gosh i'm dangerous

i'd like to see the contract i made when i signed up for this installment 

the outline of no's and if it ever stops

akka grow

ouch

what this is: is what i am

  I always draw my hearts uneven. To bother making things perfect is hardly my character, had it been, this blog would never have happened. Imperfections are everywhere in these pages; misspellings, bad drawings, strange photos, horrible grammar... it's okay. Every once in a while I go backwards and tidy up in smidgens, but for the most part it lays as it lies.

  Speaking of lying... do you ever feel like you are dying? When I started this blog one year ago today that's sort of how I felt, like I had been holding something in for far too long and the holdings had become sleepings. I felt bloated, lethargic and despondent; exactly the way one shouldn't feel all the time. To be fair it wasn't all the time, it was a lot of the time, but, it was enough of the time to taste this death - - - esoterically.

  

  Drunk Love Heart was not something I pulled from the sky this day in March when I decided to deliver my heart to the world. It was and is everything already part of me, my very fabric, lifetimes of longing, seeking, hurting, loving, giving, trusting, fearing, forgetting and understanding. Not sharing one's universe makes death grow. That's why this had to be. That said, when I began this thing I had absolutely no idea what a blog was or how one does a blog and most especially WHY one would want to do a blog. But I had heard enough people say, "you should do a blog" that I guess I just knew I had to "do a blog." (That - coupled with feelings of impending doom).

  What this is: toodles and doodles and scrawlings of one sweet me.

   a voice. a vision. 

  It's very raw, not design-y... I don't know how to use Photoshop and I certainly don't know anything about html's and secret codes and such, but I do know what touches me and also... I'm very good at hearing voices that, um, I probably shouldn't. 

  What this is: is what I am.

EVERY ONE OF YOU ~ I THANK ~~~~~ deeply. 

Your receptivity makes it worth the effort. 

And fills my heart with JOY!

But I tell ya what... I would do it anyway, even with no one watching.

Because of needing to live, as much as I need to let myself die.  

---esoterically. 

but what is love?

When I close my eyes I see one extraordinary gossamer thread woven many billion times around the Earth. Threaded through our heart source, it links every one of us - to every one of us.

By this luminous silken line we share impermanence, permanence and the allusive concept of time. Past present and future exist here, but simultaneously. In the weaving and the woven, all information is stored. Our hearts - the button holes, by which we are sewn into the Grand Design.

The thread that makes us human.

When I close my eyes I hear every cry - near or far,
resounding, whispering. Tears fall and we all cry a little.

The love line tugs.

When I close my eyes I feel every euphoric boom of laughter
filling, completing us - making the world more light.
Every line etched deep within our skin, a gift.

Recognition - we are all the same.

Painted with prayers.
Strung like jewels.

By One Extraordinary Gossamer Thread.

Best Mates

Photo by Atmadev Cornelius

Dying is required.

When living is present.

A little every day,

a lot once in a while,

more often than not.

We die the moment we are born.

Pushing away from what we were,
into who we are meant to be.

And we live the moment we die.

*

Kind of sets a precedence

for the entire journey.

*

So let yourself die, akka b.

become fertilizer

become the way of the returning tree.

So

you can live more,

once again,

entirely.

*

Live Death/Present Life

Two Ends Of A Very Long Rope

Two ends of a very long rope.

Rope THE MAN gave me.

"Here's your rope" said the man.

"See how far you can get whilst holding both ends simultaneously."

Having always been up for a challenge, I agreed.

So with my RIGHT hand I picked up one side.

And with my LEFT hand I picked up the other.

There were no instructions included.

It was a game with no rules.

Except that part about holding on with two different hands.

Naturally, give and take transpired between what was RIGHT and what was LEFT.

And the two ENDS were equally BEGINNINGS.

Interchangeable.

Except for that part about one being RIGHT and one being what...

was LEFT.

if you know what i mean?

Fall DOWN

Fire. brings it. FALL.
Dry winds, parched lips. Hot dusty air. And FIRE.
Colors do change in California...they go from brown, to sparks, to orange and red. smoke.

And temperature changes. yes. It starts when:

summer is almost ending
- and jumps to -
summer has only just begun

dead summer. like falling down.
we too renounce our leaves.

The hills have to burn.

Chancing loss of that which feeds them.

The greenest parts, the wildest creatures.

FALL DOWN
Like you've never felt any pain small leaf.

go to dirt

Bones.

FATHOMS
under blood and skin,
there is this place.

I don't know the scientific term,

but i do know it's between things.

Wedged.

Easily forgotten -

like dishes and dirty laundry.

It sets our pace,
makes us walk funny,
with our shoulders forward and our head back.

Or our pelvis in and belly out.

Like a groan. That's what it's like.
An ancient howl. But a private one.
It's the way we breathe. But in our bones.

yes.

bones.

Under blood and skin.

Where lifetimes lodge ~ and sometimes you get to feel them.
The ones that make eyes twitch and hairs gray.

The ones we thought we lost.

but didn't.

Because of fathoms.

And not wanting to.

Cutting and Pasting

Going away from it.

because why?

Well, the story is like a thousand times more stubborn than me.

and also.

because why not?

It doesn't fit under my hat.

or my belt buckle.

or in my shoe.

and also.

It's not that becoming.

Plus it weighs a lot.

and also.

It never wants to let me go.

Even though I am sure it's not my fault.

well, it might be.

But anyway, I'm still going to go away from it.

10.

10

years.
since - she cracked open the window
of
in-between worlds
pushed her way through
invited herself in

10

years.
before - I panted and prayed
I called, she summoned
she
churned
I
surrendered

10

Years.
ago - we died
a
little
said goodbye
a lot

to what comes before, being born
to what comes before, being a mother

10

Years.
far - from this very day.
We passed each other in twilight halls
as we
both
left
behind
so
we both

could
come
to
be

a
little more

10

H A P P Y * B I R T H D A Y

rethinking Birthdays

click pic to grow ~

Walk backwards.

go on.

go back.

and plant your path with candles

for years

days

every breath that returns you.

to the color of your mother's laughter when the moon blessed her belly

let the light of your birth

illumine

the

steps of your life.

going back.